liquid courage
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Maybe it's the alcohol in her system, maybe it's the heat stampeding through her veins, but like hell she's going to let this opportunity pass by. [Nove/Ginga]


**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.

_A/N: I really gotta catch up with the manga (ViVid and Force)...but it feels good to be back. Happy (Belated) New Year!_

* * *

"So what new changes will you bringing this coming year?"

She looks over her shoulder into those brilliant green eyes and tries not to lose herself in them. They capture the cone cast by the security light above the open entranceway and glimmer like coins in a wishing well, shadowed in the awning of dark lashes blinking away the falling snow. She's tempted to get to her feet, put her hand to the back of Ginga's head – thread her fingers through the silk curtain of purple hair – and crush their lips together, weld them shut and drink in the lingering taste of wine and unspoken promises. She can do it. She's fast…but Ginga is faster, older, experienced. The superior cyborg.

Thinking of the half-empty flute glass she's holding, Nove wishes she hadn't imbibed so much of the stuff. What she would give to think a little more clearly, move a little more quickly. This much tension, loud and obvious in its quiet resonance, couldn't be healthy for someone in love.

Oh, but Gin asked a question, and it would be very impolite of Nove to ignore her. So she says, "What's there to decide? Nothing's ever set in stone. I figure I just roll with the punches and see where it takes me."

"That's true, but isn't there something you want to do? Something that should define you when this time comes around again?"

"Well…" She takes a sip, rolls her shoulders back, swallows and both relishes and damns the way the liquid slides icily down her throat to her chest. "I'd like to take the kids cross-country for training; Vivio's been rarin' to go since I brought it up and I don't want have to keep putting it off. Go on more walks, I guess, and—"

"Contemplate your place in the world?" Gin finishes, mouth quirked in a droll smile.

"No, be _inspired_. Learn things I didn't even want to learn last year. Because, you know me, I'm pretty damn stubborn."

"You are persistently stubborn."

"Very much so!"

"What do you have in mind?" She drinks from her own glass and closes her eyes, perhaps savoring the taste of the wine. How strange. Nove didn't imagine Ginga to partake in the joy of alcohol, but that had to be because it's a holiday and countless others were certainly celebrating in the same fashion. Whereas they'd be slamming it down, Gin takes it in leisurely stride. She appears content, lackadaisical, and it makes Nove's heart skip a beat.

But it's such a monumental step from where they stand now. Who's to say Ginga would reciprocate the feelings of a girl who knows next to nothing of romancing; of keeping the flame of passion alive long enough for it to remain constant, no, permanent; of treating her to a night out on the town, having dinner dates and movie nights and moments in bed where the only noise to lull them to sleep are their hearts beating as one? Who is to say this is just a game to see who could lead who astray and wind up broken and in despair because of the possibility that it can't work out?

_Now I know that's not true_, Nove tells herself, swirling the glass around, watching clear liquid bounce up and down like a needle on a seismograph. _At least, I don't think so._ _She's not that kind of person._

No, that was the fear feeding her these thoughts. The uncertainty. The anticipation of something momentous going to happen and suddenly ending on an anti-climatic note. The only other time she had felt that way was before the JS Incident drew to a close, worrying for her sisters' safety, staring up into the barrel of a gun and waiting with bated breath for the shot to be fired.

Before her life had changed. And five years later, after much rehabilitation and consideration of her role in the scheme of the world where the Combat Cyborgs sowed much chaos, it had changed for the better.

_So what's there to be afraid of?_

She sucks in a breath, knocks back the last of the wine in a single gulp, and turns fully around. Facing Ginga, staring into those pools of green and drowns in them. Grabs her by the back of the head and pulls her close, so close she inhales grapes and jasmine and cold night air but by the stars does it feel _glorious_. Maybe it's the alcohol in her system, maybe it's the heat stampeding through her veins, but like hell she's going to let this opportunity pass by. "I'll tell you exactly what I have in mind: _you and me_. _Together_. No more of this sidestepping bullshit. Let's be more than that and make it the _real deal_." _Because if you say no…._

If she says no….

The surprise she wears melts away and softens significantly. Ginga is positively glowing, from the snowflakes perched on her lashes to the smile spreading cheek to cheek. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I want us to be out there and show the world what I'm, we're, capable of. We can take it nice and easy. We can nurture it and watch it grow. It doesn't matter to me how we go about it. All that matters is being next to you."

Gin leans in and presses their foreheads together, creating a spark that races from the tip of Nove's nose to the soles of her feet and takes her breath away. "I've been waiting for you to say that. Hell, I've been waiting all year. I figured if you weren't going to then it would fall to me to come clean."

"Subtlety isn't one of our strong points. Everybody knows that."

"So true." Somewhere within the house, as they talk, the countdown has begun, and they listen as their father and sisters and friends announce the dawning of a new year. Followed by much applause and cheering, the faint blast of fireworks can be heard. "The bells are tolling."

"Wedding bells, I presume?"

Gin laughs and wraps an arm around Nove's waist. "One step at a time, love. Just one." Then she closes the gap, mouth over mouth. The world belongs only to them – the snow, the wine, and the warmth of their bodies fitting into place as the last two pieces of a puzzle waiting to be complete.


End file.
